Redux: Africa
by Connor McKinley
Summary: RE-DUX: adjective, to bring back, revive. That is exactly what is happening to people infected with a strange virus in Africa and all over the world. In the hopes of finding a safe spot, some Mormon missionaries and villagers set out on a journey for their safe haven. McPriceley, Cunnilungi, ChurchTarts
1. Chapter 1

one.

In retrospect, I should have seen this coming.

For the past few weeks, people in the village have been getting really, really sick. At first, we thought nothing of it; our designated village is riddled with illness (see: AIDs, cancer, etc.). The symptoms, coughing fits, rashes, high fever, seizures and insomnia, were rather obsene, but after a few days and no clear diagnosis from Gotswana, we began to worry. Gotswana is a good doctor, a really good one. If he can get a bible out of my ass, he can diagnose someone. But all of the tests from multiple patients came back with no clear results. That as the first tip off that something was wrong. Gotswana was out of his mind trying to figure out what was happening.

The second hint came around a week after Gotswana's little meltdown over the diagnosis fiasco- the death toll rose significantly. We had fifteen people die in one week. One week. Elder Mckinley was devastated over this. We didn't know what to do with all the bodies (we usually have maybe one casualty a week), so we piled them up by the river while Mckinley wrote up somewhat of an S.O.S to the Mission President. That's when it all started.

About a day after we collected the bodies and piled them by the river, they- and this is going to sound completely insane- came back. The came lumbering through the village, flesh rotting straight from the bone. One very old man who had, for lack of better word, re-animated, grabbed a young woman by the arm and bit right into her shoulder. That was more than enough to see. I rushed back to the mission center. Some of the elders and villagers were there, and once we had called roll to make sure that all of the elders were present, we locked the doors and windows. Elder Mckinley called a meeting in the living room.

"What the heck is going on out there?" Elder Thomas asked, tears brimming in his eyes. He had never dealt with death very well.

"I… I don't know!" Mckinley shouted. He was visibly frazzled. I had the sudden urge to stand up and hold him, comfort him, but I knew better. That kind of behaviour was strictly for post-Hell dreams.

"What… What should we do?" Nabulungi asked in her innocent, broken English.

"I just…. I don't know, alright?" Mckinley sighed, relaxing his shoulders.

"Elder Mckinley?" Elder Neely's hand shot up, as if he were a child in a classroom, "May I suggest something?"

"Yes, of course Elder," Mckinley gestured for Neely to continue.

"Well, if I remember correctly, we have three vans for going to Kampala and back. Perhaps we should take those and seek out a safe zone?"

Mckinley's head snapped up. "Elder Neely, you know we can't abandon our post."

"Uh, Elder Mckinley?" Elder Church asked from the window, "I don't think we have a post let to leave."

Everyone crowded around the window. The villagers outside were walking around emotionless and directionless. Multiple bodies adorned the dusty ground.

"Zombies." Elder Cunningham whispered.

"Oh Elder, don't be ridiculous," Elder Michaels scoffed. As if on cue to prove him wrong, one of the sick villagers outside threw themselves against the window, snarling and smearing blood everywhere. I felt something on my shoulder, and I turned my head to see that Elder Mckinley had buried his head into my shoulder.

"On second thought…." Elder Michaels muttered as we collectively backed away from the window.

There was a long pause before anyone spoke again. It was Mckinley. "Elder Neely, perhaps you're right. We may need to… Well, leave."

After much deliberation, Mckinley demanded that we would pack the vans tomorrow at the crack of dawn and try for Kampala. The general consensus was that there was probably a safe spot there. It was a two day drive, but it was worth it to possibly keep ourselves safe.

We decided to take two vans. They're all eight seaters, so it's going to be tight, but we can't afford to waste fuel. Thomas, Church, Gotswana, Mafala, Nabulungi,Cunningham, Mckinley and myself will be in one van and Kalimba, Kimbay, Middala, Schrader, Neely, Zelder, Davis and Michaels will be in the other.

None of us could sleep, so we spent the night packing the kitchen into boxes so that we could make our escape quicker tomorrow morning. At one point, Mckinley excused himself to the sitting room. Concerned, I joined him.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, entering the room and locking the door behind me.

"Elder Price, please go," He sniffed, turning away from me. He was obviously crying.

I took a deep breath. "Kevin, please. Call me Kevin."

Mckinley whipped around to face me. His blue eyes seemed to glow with tears. "Connor." He breathed. My breath, for whatever reason, hitched.

Ever since I had arrived in Uganda, strange things had been happening to my brain. I had gone in perfectly fine, and then I met Mckin- Connor. He assumed that I was having gay thoughts based on his childhood thoughts and told me to just Turn it Off, and somehow that turned it on.

Whoa. Okay. Poor choice of words.

I had never had a gay thought in my life, but since I met this redhead I found it hard to have straight thoughts. And now that I knew his first name, everything just fit together so perfectly; it was a perfect name for a perfect boy. Luckily, now that we were excommunicated from the Church of Latter-Day Saints, I had grown to accept it. Connor, however, had not. After what Thomas, the only one Connor really trusted with his life story, made out to be a lot of self-hatred and bad thoughts, Connor had a lot of trouble accepting himself. From what I understood, he really hated himself. There was not a single thing that he even remotely liked about himself. He felt ugly. Sinful. Unloveable.

Oh, if only he knew.

"Connor," I began, "Please, don't be upset. You'll be okay."

"I'm not worried about me!" He exclaimed. "I'm angry at myself. I swore to protect those villagers, and… and the Elders. Oh, Heavenly Father, forgive me." And then he collapsed on himself, a sobbing, shaking mess. I took it upon myself to softly rub his back while he collected himself.

Once he decided he was calm, we went back to the kitchen. The pink fringes of dawn were frayed over the horizon, and Connor decided it was time. We hurriedly gathered all of our things into the vans and got onto the road without an encounter with one of the ill.


	2. Chapter 2

two.

The trip began as innocent as it could- there were absolutely no cars on the road so we made pretty good time; Church estimated that we will be in Kampala by noon tomorrow. We were all exhausted, so most of us tried to sleep so that we wouldn't have to look at the desolate villages that we passed. Some Ugandans that had been bitten stumbled onto the road and tried to claw at the car, effectively scaring the daylights out of us. Those were the bad times.

The good times were few, but they were special. Those were the times when all the talk was light-hearted, when both vans would pull over just to check on each other, when Connor fell asleep on my shoulder, un-protestant when I slung an arm around his neck. Elder Church winked at me from the rearview mirror. I chuckled lightly, hoping not to attract too much attention to my actions. Unfortunately, 'under the radar' isn't in Church's vocabulary.

"Guys, look at Elder Price and Elder McKinley!" He cooed from the wheel. Almost everyone's heads turned towards us. I felt a blush crawling up onto my face.

"Aww, you guys are so cute!" Elder Thomas laughed. Everyone began laughing. I tried to shush them ('you guys, he's sleeping!'), but no no avail. I barely managed to get my arm back to my side before Connor woke up.

"What's so funny?" He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nabulungi giggled and reached back to touch his knee.

"Did you know that Elder Price is as sweet as sugar?" She asked.

"Well duh," Connor rolled his eyes, "anyone could have told you that." He looked over at me sheepishly. I gave a tiny four-fingered wave. Elder Cunningham, or Arnold, as he insisted we all call him, raised an eyebrow above his glasses. I leaned forward and gave him a whack on the shoulder.

Most of the drive was spent in silence, separated by short bursts of conversation. I worried a little bit about the other van and how they were doing. Once the sun finally went down we pulled over to make sleeping arrangements. Gotswana would sleep at the wheel, Church and Thomas shared the passenger seat (they curled into each other like kittens. Maybe I should laugh at them.), Arnold and Naba were in the middle with Mafala (he still didn't completely trust Arnold), which left Connor and I in the back. It was no trouble getting to sleep. It was staying asleep that was the hard part.

I don't even know how late it was- you can never be too sure in Africa- when something ramming into my side woke me up. I opened my eyes and squinted into the pale moonlight across the seat. Connor was writhing around, face contorted into an expression of true terror and pain. I grabbed him by his shoulder; this had become standard procedure. He shot up like a bullet, sweaty and panting.

"Connor?" I asked, trying to relieve him of his dream and bring him back to me.

"K- Kevin?" He responded, grasping blindly at my shirt with his sweaty palms. I pulled him into me and held him as he shook. I wanted to ask what had happened but I knew better. I had done that once and gotten a talking-to from Thomas the next day. He explained that Connor had Hell dreams every night. He truly believed he was damned for being gay. I never asked again. He stopped shaking and I pulled him into a comfortable position where we could fall asleep together.

By the time I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. I heard people laughing and knew that it was about Connor and I snuggling, but I was too comfortable to move. I pretended to be asleep until he woke up and got off of me. That was when I sat up.

"Did you two have a good sleep?" Gotswana teased. I rolled my eyes. I saw Connor's eyes go downcast, embarrassed. Because we were still the only ones in the back seat, I reached over and laced our fingers together to reassure him. He looked at me and gave a weak smile.

"Oh, so you're not going to comment on Poptarts and Church's cuddlefest?" I defended, using Thomas' classic nickname, trying to bring back some illusion of normalcy. "Not to mention the fact that they are still sitting in the same chair." There was a round of giggles. Poptarts stuck his tongue out at me playfully.

The weight of the situation quieted us when we stopped the car. The road was blocked by two bodies.

"What should we do?" Gotswana asked.

"I'll take care of it," Mafala sighed, "looks like they're dead anyways." He got out of the car, much to Nabulungi's protest, and dragged the bodies out of the road. He was right, they really appeared to be dead. It was only when we began driving away that they re-animated, trying to catch up with us.

For about fifteen minutes, I communicated with Schrader, who was in the passenger's seat of the van behind us, through hand motions. He made me understand that they were all doing okay and couldn't wait to get to Kampala.

We got there about mid-afternoon. It was abandoned, with the exception of the occasional sick person, throwing themselves at the windows of the vans in the hopes that the glass would break and they would get to feast on our flesh.

Much to our dismay, there was no relief effort. No safe camp. It was just sick people and death. There were so many of them. With Gotswana driving the whole place seemed like a blur. Gotswana refused to stop, and no one questioned him- we all knew that if we did, the vans would be overtaken by the sick in a matter of moments. There was no safety here. Nabulungi burst into tears.

We floored it to Juba, all saddened and disappointed, and pulled into the thick brush at the side of the road to sleep. We figured the bushes were thick enough to keep us safe. Everyone was so relieved to see each other. The happiness was tangible. But, as always, the circumstances of our relief outweighed our happiness.

Zelder and Michaels found a travel pack in their van- a map, some walkie-talkies, some batteries, a radio, and a compass. We turned on the radio, just for kicks. As we suspected, nothing but static. The walkie-talkies were in good working order, so we used those to keep in contact between vans. We made a small bonfire and heated up some canned ravioli for supper. The ravioli was disgusting, but it was the best time I'd had in a while. We sat on blankets on the ground and ate, keeping the mood light with songs and jokes. Connor didn't even protest when I slipped my arm around his waist. It felt like the key, and I knew, without a doubt, that this was the way forward.

When it came time time to turn in, we got into our sleeping spots. Connor was reluctant, but I eventually convinced him into a snuggle night again. Once he was beside me, I held onto him for dear life.

I think I love him.


	3. Chapter 3

three.

In the early hours of the morning, Connor shook me awake. At first I was agitated and wanted to sleep, but then I heard him talking about 'the radio' and 'Morocco' and 'a ferry' and 'safe spots' and 'shuttles'. I followed him out to where everyone was gathered. I heard a staticy voice emanating from the radio.

"-in Morocco, and have ferries' running back and forth to New York, free of charge. They have quarantined and are currently running shuttles to Cleveland, Dallas, Phoenix, Salt Lake, Seattle and Minneapolis. I repeat, the Red Cross has set up a relief effort in Morocco, and have ferries' running back and forth to New York, free of charge. They have quarantined and are currently running shuttles to Cleveland, Dallas, Phoenix, Salt Lake, Seattle and Minneapolis. Those cities are quarantined and safe. That is all." And then it all went static again.

"Can you guys believe it?" Schrader screeched, "We're practically on track to Morocco. We could go to Salt Lake!"

"Oh, please!" Nabulungi cried, tears of joy on track down her thin face. "Let's go. Please, Elders!"

"Yes! Yes, we must." Kalimba was shaking with excitement.

"Connor," I turned to him, "It's up to you."

"You are still mission leader," Davis added.

"I think we should try," He sighed after a moment, "But I don't want you guys to get your hopes up, okay? Morocco is a long ways away."

There was a cheer, and we decided to eat breakfast then begin charting our course. Middala brought out the MRE's from the village and gave them to Kalimba and Kimbay to prepare.

"Where are Church and Poptarts?" Davis asked not long after. My stomach bottomed out. They were nowhere to be seen.

"I'm not sure. I'll go look," I offered. Connor grabbed my wrist.

"Be careful." He told me. I nodded and fought my way into the brush. Most of the branches were more broken than they had been the night before, and I told myself that was good. A few feet away from our little camp, I hear a wet slurping noise, and prepared myself for what I was about to see- a Sick person eating the guts of my friends. But that mental image in no way prepared me for what I was about to see.

"Elders?" I asked loudly, coming upon the clearing where they stood. Church had Poptarts pinned against a tree, ties on the ground and shirts unbuttoned. Poptarts was red and his hair was messy. It didn't take Moroni, an all-seeing entity, to know what was going on. Poptarts pushed himself off of the tree and stumbled towards me.

"Elder Price, please don't tell anyone." He begged.

"But you guys, it's…. It's not something to be ashamed of." I told them, remembering how accepting they were of Connor, despite the fact that he hadn't formally come out yet.

"We know, we just… it's been a secret for so long, and we're just not ready yet." Church explained. I nodded. "We aren't ashamed. Heavenly Father still loves us. Just like he still loves you and McKinley," He pulled Poptarts to him by his waist. I hadn't come out either, but I guess I hadn't been very discreet lately. "Just… please. Don't tell anyone."

"Of course. I would never out you guys." I told them. They smiled. Then Poptarts narrowed his eyes at me. "E- Elder, may I speak to you?"

"Of course," I said, and Church left us to talk.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Elder McKinley," He explained, "I've seen the way you two act, and I just wanted to make sure you understand him and all of his thoughts. He is terrified of himself, of being gay, even though we know that Heavenly Father doesn't care. He… Hates himself. He thinks that he's unloveable, and that he's going to hell. Just don't pressure him into being with you. If he doesn't even love himself, how can he love you?"

I nodded, slightly taken aback. I knew that Connor's thoughts were bad, but I didn't know that they were that bad. "O-okay. Thank you Elder," I sighed, turning to leave. I heard a rustling and prepared to run in case it was a Sick person, but it was just Church, hands over his crotch and a blush on his face.

"As you were," I smirked as I walked back to camp. I found a lump in my throat. I knew that Heavenly Father still loved us all, but Connor didn't. He wouldn't accept it. I just wish I could make him understand.

That was a planning day. Gotswana and Mafala made a makeshift fence with some fishing wire that we had while the rest of us charted a course to Morocco. The next day, we would drive all day to Wau, and settle there for the night to sleep. Zelder, always the math whiz, estimated that we would get to Morocco in about five days.

We relaxed for the rest of that day. Kimbay and Middala sang some African songs, and Davis read us some poetry. It was nice.

That night, as we were settling in, I pulled Connor aside. "Hey, I gotta talk to you."

All colour drained from his face. "W- what about, Kevin?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I don't want you to feel pressured. Like, I know that we've been becoming closer and acting different around each other, and I just… I don't want you to feel, like I said, pressured."

Connor backed away, and I instantly regretted speaking. "Kev- uh, Elder Price, I think we might need some, um, distance."

I couldn't find my voice. "What?" It came out weak and needy.

"I just…. I can't be gay. I can't. I'm already damned for having the thoughts. If I go any farther than that who knows what could happen?"

"Connor, please, you're fine. Heavenly Father still adores you, I promise." I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, but he swatted it away.

"No!" He cried. "I'm terrible, Elder Price. I'm a bad Mormon, and I do bad, bad things. I'm damned. I can't risk it."

"Yes you can, because there's nothing to risk. Please, I… I love you." I muttered. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

"No, you don't." He told me, "You're perfect in every way. So you can't love me. I'm unloveable. I'm going to move to the other van." He sniffed as he walked away. As he left, I caught the sight of a white scar, just above where his shirt sleeve would be. It looked self-inflicted. I stood there, shocked. When I finally found my presence, I staggered into my van.

"Where is elder McKinley?" Arnold asked.

"He's… Switching vans." I choked out. Poptarts and Church exchanged a glance. Elder Michaels was Connor's replacement, but I made Mafala sit between us. Whatever Connor had told Michaels, I didn't want to hear.

I woke up some ten hours later, while we were driving. Everyone was asleep but Poptarts, who was at the wheel.

"What happened last night?" He demanded when he caught my eye in the mirror.

"I… I tried to tell him that I didn't want him to feel pressured, and he kept going on about how I'm perfect and he's damned and unloveable. I told him that I loved him," I sighed, looking out the window at the bodies on the ground.

"Okay," Poptarts breathed, "That's okay. We can deal with that. Do you really love him?"

I nodded solemnly. "He rebuked me. I'm heartbroken."

We droke for extended periods of time, and when we got to Wau, I refused to get out of the car. I just put a blanket over my head and laid down. Outside, I could hear Mafala hitting a Sick over the head with a pipe, a maneuver we had come up with yesterday that kept us relatively safe. It killed them off, for good. I cried until I was asleep. Without Connor, everything felt wrong, and I had gone and screwed it all up.


	4. Chapter 4

our.

I woke up early, just as We were getting on the road. The night before, the group had agreed to drive to Wad Madani, roughly 21 hours away. Luckily, with all of the Kum & Go's abandoned, getting gas was easy.

I spent all of that day passing in and out of sleep. I was most alert when there were bodies in the road or when the car was being swarmed, but those times were few and far apart. Gotswana had exhausted himself driving, so he lounged in the middle with Arnold and Naba while Michaels took the wheel. That gave Mafala and I some room to spread out, which I was eternally grateful for. Poptarts still refused to sit anywhere but Church's lap.

I was asleep when we got Wad Madani, and woke up in the thick, bleak time of night when you know that you won't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. I tried my luck at looking at the map. We were scheduled to stop in Port Sudan the next day, then the day after we would be in Egypt. I figured that was a pretty good plan- we would be halfway there.

I finally fell asleep when dawn came.

I woke up to quiet chatter. Church and Thomas were conversing with Schrader and Neely through the walkie-talkie. Naba and Arnold were being their usual adorable selves, Michaels was driving and Mafala and Gotswana were still passed out. I felt a weight in my heart. Connor was supposed to be here, napping on my shoulder. I was supposed to quietly kiss his forehead while no one was looking. There wasn't supposed to be an empty space beside me. It had been all I could think about.

I was so consumed by my sadness that Michaels had to honk the horn to get my attention.

"What?" I practically yelled.

"Someone wants to talk to you." Poptarts said plainly, reaching back to hand me the walkie-talkie. I took it, a little wary of his intentions. I hit the 'talk' button.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Turn around." The person on the other end said. I did as I was told, and unbuckled my seatbelt to pivot my ribs around just enough to see the other van through the back windshield. Connor was pushed between the two front seats, staring me down from his van. He looked frantic, fiery hair mussed and crystal eyes wide.

"Connor?" It came out as a whisper.

"Kevin, I love you too." He told me. There was a delay between his lips moving and the sound coming through the small yellow machine in my hand, but I was positive that the boy I loved had just told be that he loved meback. And that was all it took.

"Pull over," I said, both into the walkie-talkie and to Michaels. Davis, the driver for the other van, immediately complied, but Michaels was reluctant.

"What? Why?" He asked loudly.

"Pull the fuck over!" I yelled, but I was smiling. Everyone sat in shocked silence as the car screeched to a halt- I hadn't said a single swear since we left the church. I frantically crawled over the middle seat and threw the door open, hitting the ground running. I met Connor between the two vans and, without hesitation, kissed him.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, transferring the question to his lips.

"I'm already damned and the world is falling apart, why not make the most of it?" He chuckled. I laughed. "Plus, Poptarts talked to me."

I glanced towards Poptarts. He was smirking, as if he had just helped me discover all of the secrets of the universe. Maybe he did.

"Guys, hate to break up the little 'secrets revealed' party, but we should probably get a move on." Michaels pointed to the road behind us as he exited the van, a few of the Sick were lumbering towards us, about 50 feet away.

"Okay," I breathed. Michaels knowingly moved to the other van, patting my shoulder as we passed each other. Connor was back with me. I didn't let him go the whole ride to Port Sudan. It felt amazing to have him back in my arms for the night. It felt even better to wake up like that. I found that he had slobbered all over my chest in the night, but I couldn't have cared less. We drove for a few hours in content silence.

But you know what they say- calm before the storm.

Our van ran out of gas with no station in sight. Zelder, with his supreme map-reading skills, claimed that there was one down the road, about five miles. The other van had just enough gas to get there, fill up, and bring some gas back. We figured it was as good a plan as any, so we watched as they drove off. The thing is, we got a little… impatient.

"Where are they?" Mafala asked after the first three minutes.

"Relax, Mafala. It's only been a few minutes. We're fine." Poptarts re-assured from up front. That silenced him, but not the expression of anxiety written on his face.

It took two more minutes for that anxiety to come to life. It was hot, so we rolled down the windows. That's when we learned what made the Sick tick; the smell of un-infected flesh. Our car was swarmed within a couple of seconds. They came from everywhere, pounding on the windows that we rolled up, on the doors. The car was shaking. I was sure that we were dead. All I could do was hold Connor in the hopes of protecting him.

Just when all of the scraping and moaning and screeching had reached its peak and my life was in front of my eyes, There was a loud rat-tat-tat noise from all around. The Sick weren't surrounding our vans anymore, their bodies instead lay dead on the ground, really dead. Three black jeeps were parked just a few feet away. A tall, buff man kicked open the passenger door of the left jeep. Middala came out of the middle jeep. The man approached the car and tapped the glass of the window with the barrel of his gun, then craned his head to look at Middala.

"These them?" He asked in a deep, gruff voice. Middala came over to the window. His chest was heaving.

"Yes," He sighed, relief evident in his voice. The man demanded that we get out of the car, but assured us that they meant no ill will. They helped us collect our things and loaded them into one of the jeeps.

"We have a camp," The man said, "not far from here. We got food, showers, clean water. We'll getcha where ya need ta go. I'm Armin, by the way. We found your friends here at a gas station jus' down the road." He paused, and the silence became eerie. "Well, are ya comin' or not?"

Everyone looked to Connor, who, after introducing himself and hashing out some details, he agreed to let these strangers take us to their camp. I was wary of their intentions, but Connor put his faith in them and I trusted him completely. I crawled into the middle jeep with Connor, Arnold and Nabu. Zelder hugged us, and Davis almost cried- they thought we were dead. Church, Poptarts, Gotswana and Mafala went into the left jeep with Armin.

Fortunately enough, they weren't lying- They had a mid-sized camp a little bit north of Wad Madani. There were maybe ten or so people, but I couldn't be bothered to learn all of their names. The only people who struck my interest were two teenage girls, both 15- Lilly and Faye. They were shy and reserved at first, but eventually warmed up to us. They were both extremely sweet.

"Y'all can stay as long as ya need," Armin told us, "We'll give ya food and gas so ya can get to wherever it is yer goin'."

We thanked them profusely and went for showers. They had four tiny stalls set up with tarps between a few trees, and hoses poured lukewarm water from a pump. It wasn't much, but I don't think I've ever been so happy. Connor said that I should shower with him, in the interest of saving water. I readily agreed. We undressed, but I could tell that he thought that he had a mistake- he instantly went to cover his torso with a towel.

"What are you doing?" I asked. He looked like Arnold, pretending he had a cape.

"I- I don't think you should see." He replied. I creased my eyebrows, then raised them as I remembered the white line on his arm as he walked away that night at the mini-camp. I reached my arm forward and gently tugged the towel away. Connor looked down in shame.

His entire chest and shoulder areas were covered in thick, white scars. I gasped; this was insane. But this is what I needed to see, to slowly unravel the thick web of his inner thoughts. I didn't say a word. I just took him into my arms and held him. He shook harder than all of the times I had held him after hell dreams. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. The shock of it all was still so fresh.

I spent the shower watching him instead of actually washing myself, which had been the whole point of the shower. I couldn't bring myself to make any sudden movements. If I hid, I'd cry. There were moments when he would catch me staring at him and move away. Towards the end, when the water was beginning to run out, I grabbed him and held him close again. I kissed his shoulder where the scars were. I expected them to shrink out of sight, but they remained. That was a harsh awakening. No matter how fiercely I loved him, I couldn't make him love himself.


	5. Chapter 5

five.

When we got out of the shower, Armin's wife, Connie, took Connor and I aside.

"You boys sure got a lot on your plates," She spoke with the same southern accent that Armin did, "And as a personal gesture I'd like to offer you the R.V for night-time."

"Wow," Was all I could say, "Thank you."

"Are you sure?" Connor asked, "I mean, you have already been so good to us. We really don't want to impose."

"I insist!" Connie threw her hands in the air. "You two have done such a wonderful job taking care of that group of yours. You deserve a break."

"Well, it's all Connor's doing," I smiled, "But thank you. We'll be out of your hair before too long."

That night, as I closed and locked the R.V door, Connor burst into happy tears. He told me that it was the first time in weeks that he felt safe. I felt so lucky to have him, and told him thusly. That seemed to be the breaking point for him, because he lunged across the tiny bedroom and into my arms kissing me fiercely. Everything from that point on would get us sent to hell, for sure. But I would never, ever tell him that.

The next day was, thankfully, a rest day. We sat around the little fire, talking and eating good food. I felt incredibly blessed. I had friends who I had come to address as family, I has safety and shelter, I had Connor. I knew that in a few days we'd be back on the road again, and our chances of survival would decrease. I tried not to think of that and just enjoy the feeling of a full belly, of the rough ground beneath me and the soft, warm boy with his arm slung around my hip.

There were, as always, decisions to be made. We opted to keep on track to Morocco, and that our first stop after this would be Egypt. Halfway there. We kept checking on the radio to make sure the transmission hadn't stopped. They hadn't.

After a hearty dinner, Arnold pulled me aside.

"What's up, companion?" I asked.

"It's… It's Nabagapo." He stuttered, mispronouncing Nabulungi's name, as per usual, "Her birthday is tomorrow days and I'd like to see if we can find something to give her."

"I'm sure we can figure something out," I assured him. He nodded happily and bounded back to the fire. I wasn't sure if we would be able to give her anything, but I was positive that just knowing that we were headed to Salt Lake would be more than enough for her.

Kalimba, Middala and Kimbay decided to stay with these new people when it's time for us to go. They said that it was just too hard for them to leave this part of the world. That was really tough to hear, but we knew it was best for them. We knew that Armin and Connie had a pretty good operation set up there, and they probably had a better chance of surviving with them than with us. That means that we can all squeeze into one of the vans. Granted, it will be very tight, but it will be better to not waste gas.

Connor and I were up all night discussing everything from us to life to Salt Lake, which reminded us that we still don't know how our families reacted to us coming out via letters we sent out about two months ago. Letters would have arrived three days ago. I said we'd wait and see how they took it when we got back to Salt Lake. I wanted him to remain hopeful that his family was still alive. I spoke to him about Nabu's birthday, and he mentioned that we should let her and Arnold have the R.V for the night of her birthday. I said that it sounded like a great idea. So it was a plan.

The next morning (well, noon) I woke up without Connor. He had gone outside. I dressed myself and stumbled outside into the cool morning. The second that I closed the door, Arnold ran full-speed into me, crushing me in a hug

"Whoa, whoa. What's going on?" I chuckled. I'd never seen him so happy.

"Elder McKinley told me what you're giving Naba and I. It means a ton. Naba is super happy. Thankyouthankyouthankyou." He babbled. I hugged him back.

"It was Connor's idea." I told him. He craned his head to look at me. His glasses were pushed into his nose.

"I know. I already thanked him."

I gazed over to the fire. Connor sat with a smirk on his face, arms crossed in front of his chest. He gave me a wink. Arnold and I walked towards the pit. I sat beside Faye. We made idle conversation. That lasted about 15 minutes. Poptarts and Church came out of their tent.

"Guys, we have something to say." Church announced. Everyone turned their attention to them. Poptarts gave me a smile; I knew where this was going.

"We… We're… uh…" Church muttered. He was nervous, even though he had no reason to be. Poptarts rolled his eyes and laced their fingers together, holding their hands up. Silence. I could see the fear creeping onto their faces.

"Well it's about time!" Schrader laughed loudly. Everyone instantly agreed. Church sighed in relief and pulled Poptarts towards him in a sweet hug. Connie commented on how cute they were. As everyone was laughing and congratulating them, Connor moved to sit next to me to hold my hand.

In lieu of a cake, we stuck three tea candles onto a loaf of banana bread and sang 'Happy Birthday' to Nabu. She was so overwhelmed that she cried as the cake came down onto her lap. She thanked each of us profusely. We waved her and Arnold off as they retired to the R.V. People continued to go to their tents until it was just Connor, Schrader, Zelder, Thomas, Poptarts, Michaels, and Davis left. God knows what time it was.

"We should leave tomorrow." Connor suggested.

"Are you sure? I mean, It's going to be hard to leave Kalimba and Middala and Kimbay." Michaels commented.

"Yeah, but we can't drag this out. It's like a band-aid. We just have to rip it off." Davis offered.

Zelder sat up straight. "Yeah. I mean, it's going to be packed tight in the van, and we're going to have to work out a new seating plan, but we can't get too comfortable."

Connor smiled, satisfied. "Great! We'll leave at noon tomorrow. For now, let's work on that seating plan." Schrader grabbed a pen and some paper from his tent and wrote what Connor said down. In the end, our plan looked something like this: Zelder in the driver's seat, Michaels and Schrader in the passenger seat, Arnold, Nabu, Mafala, and Gotswana in the middle, Poptarts, Church, Connor and I in the back. Davis would sit on the floor at Arnold and Nabu's feet.

We eventually got too tired to plan anymore, so we all went to our respective tents. Connor curled into me, and despite the fact that it was our last night of guaranteed safety, I felt secure in the fact that I held the entire world in my arms.


	6. Chapter 6

six.

No matter what, there will always be bigger issues than my petty adoration for Connor. There will always be something more important or outstanding than my heart bursting at the seams. But sometimes I just can't help myself.

When we left Armin's camp, Nabulungi had to sit in the van and wait. She couldn't bear to part with Kalimba, Kimbay and Middala. I felt so bad for her; she was being forced to leave people who practically raised her. The goodbye was tearful, but we had to cut it short- the longer you tug on the band-aid, the more it stings and you want to scream. Armin and Connie gave us food and gas, and we were gone.

The van was uncomfortably packed. Connor had to sit on my lap. Not that I minded much. He found an old CD that he had made before he came to Africa, and insisted that we played it. It was chalk full of show tunes that he could easily sing along to. He had an absolutely beautiful voice, and the look on his face as he performed for us brought the general mood up by a little bit.

We didn't make it to Egypt. We ended up in Wadi Halfa for the night. We set up a little camp with the little supplies we had. As we were going to turn in, Connor sheepishly handed me a piece of paper that was tightly folded around a small orange flower. I unwrapped the paper and read it. At the top, in his handwriting, 'The Reasons Why I Love You' was written. It was a list that went all the way down the page and a little bit onto the other side. I read it in the dying pink African light.

Your laugh

Your hair (it's so soft!)

Your ability to make me love myself just a little bit more

The way you can make anyone believe you, just by smiling

How you always know just what to say

How kind and generous you are

The fact that you've never judged me or anyone else

How you put up with me and all my crazy stuff

That twinkle you get in your eyes when you talk about something you love

The exact color of your eyes

Those were just a few of the entries.

"I've… Been writing it over time," Connor wrung his hands shyly. "It's just kind of something I've been doing."

I looked between him and the list a few times, then took him in a bone-crushing hug. I kissed the top of his head as many times as I could before he giggled and writhed out of my grip. I grabbed him by his biceps. "I am in love with you."

"Oh, you." He laughed, tossing his head. I gave him a small shake and forced him to look at me.

"I. Am. In. Love. With. You." I annunciated every syllable, every letter and lul, making sure he understood. His eyes did that thing that they did when he's received approval, which was crease at the corners because his cheeks rose up and made him look like a cartoon character. It was really endearing. I kissed him and he kissed me at the exact same time. That, to me, meant something. To me, it meant that our brains were always on the same track and we both knew when a moment is just perfect. It meant that we were meant to be. I held him just a bit closer that night, if that was at all possible.

Once we got through Egypt and were in Libya, Church and Michaels wanted a new seating plan, so we pulled over to the side of the road and made everyone switch around. Michaels, Davis, Schrader and Zelder were now in the wayback, Arnold, Nabu, Connor and I were in the middle, which left Mafala driving, Church and Poptarts in the passenger's seat, and Gotswana on the floor. He brooded over this for a while, but eventually made himself comfortable.

Nabu complained of not feeling well. I wasn't surprised; we had left the camp a few days ago and hadn't really had a good meal/sleep since. But she said she was really really sick, and soon began heaving. Davis reached into the back and pulled out a plastic bag. Connor and I rubbed her back as she threw up, and Arnold kissed her temple until it was over. That was so sweet that I almost threw up. She seemed fine after throwing up, she dozed on Arnold's shoulder. I reached over to throw the puke-filled bag out of the window. There wasn't very much of it, but the smell was pungent and sour. Nabu shook halfway out of sleep a couple of times, but she didn't throw up, just complained of feeling sick and needing to pee.

With no traffic, we made great time. Mafala was an aggressive driver, and with no speeding laws to keep us in place we raced across Libya and made it to Tunisia the next day. Nabu threw up a few more times, but she was always hungry. Connor gave up his daily rations for her. We were all really worried; we had no idea what the 'official' symptoms were, but she seemed really sick and moody. Schrader suggested stopping in Oran the next day to see if we could raid a drug store and pick up some medicine or something. Gotswana is also running out of medication for his AIDs, so we decided to hit up a few pharmacies on the way.

And so we did. After the endless drive, we managed to get in and out of an abandoned Rexall with medicine of all sorts. We split into two groups- one with Connor, Michaels, Zelder, Poptarts, Arnold and I to go into the Rexall, and another with Davis, Mafala, Gotswana, Schrader, Nabu and Church to go into the doctor's office across the street. Arnold was apprehensive about letting Nabu go without him, but Gotswana was adamant about keeping an eye on her. Anyways, we raided the place. It was, thankfully, deserted, which made filling up on tylenol, beef jerky and diet pepsi easy. I saw Connor put a few pregnancy tests in the bag as well. "It's just a precaution," He told me, "Just to be safe."

But 'safe' was a dirty word those days. We lost one of own that day. One and maybe more.

We heard the horn of the van beeping wildly outside. Figuring we had enough stuff, we raced out and got in the van. Except Schrader and Church had their hands on Davis's chest, covered in blood.

"Get in!" Mafala screamed, and so we all crammed into the middle bench to watch as Michaels shook violently, face turning pale. Church shouted at Mafala to floor it, and the van started with a jolt. It didn't slow down. Michaels hurried into the back as well, cradling Davis's head in his lap. He kept whispering 'you'll be okay. You'll be okay', but we all knew the horrible, aching reality gnawing at our subconscious. We got to about 20 minutes away when Church and Schrader shared a look, and took their hands off of Davis.

"Mafala. Stop the car." Schrader said solemnly.

"No! If we can make it a little farther we can-"

"Mafala. Stop. The. Car."

"But we can get him to a place where Gotswana can operate, and then-"

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR, MAFALA."

The van screeched to a halt, leaping up onto its front wheels. Michaels looked absolutely panicked. "What do you mean stop the car? He's still warm!"

Church put a blood-soaked hand onto Michaels' shoulder. In that instant, Michaels understood. We made way for them to carry Davis's lifeless body out onto the road. Michaels fell onto the pavement, punching the road with his fist. Tears darkened the asphalt, but no sound was heard for a few long moments. Then we all heard hi heavy intake of breath, and a huge, heaving sob. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I loved him." He cried. He put his forehead down onto the road.

Once he (somewhat) regained himself, he allowed me to help him back into the van. We put a blanket over the seats in the back. The blood was still fresh. Gotswana didn't have to sit on the floor anymore, though he said that he would have gladly sat there the whole trip if it meant having Davis back.

He stopped on the highway for the night. We figured that if we really pushed we could be in Morocco by tomorrow. That was a huge relief to me, and everyone else. We decided to give Nabu her medicine and a test to take. Arnold seemed shocked when we handed him the little purple box, but Connor assuring him that it was just a precaution seemed to mollify his worry.

As we waited for Nabu and Arnold to come back from the forest with the test results, Gotswana and Mafala told each other jokes in a language we couldn't understand. They were like kid brothers, always teasing and taunting each other. Michaels was distant and weepy. We all felt a presence where Davis' laugh should have been, where his breathless voice should have interjected. It was the heaviest of feelings.

Arnold and Nabulungi returned a few minutes later. "What does two little pink lines mean?" Arnold asked. Zelder glanced at the box, and all blood drained from his face. He didn't even need to, but he said it anyways.

"Pregnant."


	7. Chapter 7

seven.

That was, to say the least, a shock.

"Okay, okay. We can't be too sure of anything just yet. These things are, like, 99% accurate, but that doesn't mean anything right now." Connor broke the winding silence. Arnold's breathing sped up, and his face got all red.

"You okay, buddy?" I asked. He took a few breaths before responding.

"Am I okay? Kevin, I'm gonna be a dad!" He grinned. Suddenly, everything else went away. If Arnold, awkward, chunky, manic Arnold Cunningham could be happy about his girlfriend being pregnant in times like these, then maybe things weren't so bad. But Zelder, always the realist, cut into his happy moment.

"Well, remember that there is still a 1% chance that she isn't pregnant…" He explained, but it appeared that Arnold wasn't listening.

"I'm gonna be a daddy! I'm gonna be a daddy!" He sang, picking up Naba by her middle and spinning her around, earning a loud giggle. "I'm gonna be the best daddy in the whole world!"

I wasn't sure why, but, out of all of the moments in the past month that my external pride could have come through, that was the one. I was proud of Arnold. I was proud of Nabu. I was proud of Michaels and Poptarts and Church and Gotswana and everyone, in the van or not. And in that moment, my pride was manifested into words and actions.

I jumped up and took Arnold in a hug. "Yes! Yes, buddy! You're gonna be the best daddy that ever was. And Nabu," I tore away from Arnold to embrace her, "you're going to be the best mommy ever!"

She laughed, and I smiled. Connor smiled. Everyone smiled. Things were looking up.

We checked the radio one last time. The transmissions from Morocco were still coming.

I woke in the dead of night to some rustling outside. I gently grabbed Michaels' wrist and checked the time on his watch. It was 2:57 AM. Grabbing a lantern from the back, I gingerly exited the van and approached the figure that was slumped against the outside of the van. I lit the lantern. It was Nabu and she was crying.

"Nabulungi?" I whispered, "What's wrong?"

She looked up at me. "Oh, hello Elder Price. I'm just thinking."

I sat next to her. "Nabu, we're friends. No, fuck that. We're family. You can call me Kevin. What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know if I can be a mother." She sobbed, "My mother died when I was very young, and I was raised by so many different people. I don't think I could do it alone."

"But you won't be alone," I set down the lantern and took her hand, "You'll have Arnold. And Church and Poptarts and Mafala and Gotswana and Connor and I. You will always have us."

She smiled her lovely, wide smile. Some tears followed the deep canals of her dimples into her mouth. "Thank you, Kevin."

"You're welcome. We should get back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow." I sighed. She nodded and we went back into the van. I gave her a goodnight kiss, as always, and crawled back to Connor.

The next day, the sky was thick and grey and threatened rain. We officially crossed into Morocco. According to the radio, the dock was in Casablanca. The ride supposedly took six hours, but it felt like at least twelve. After driving for hours in the conversation of our new lives, we sped past a sight that said 'CASABLANCA PORT- 45 MILES'

"Holy shit," Schrader gasped, "45 miles."

"45 miles," Zelder squealed, making a song out of it, "45 motherfucking miles, miles, miles!"

I gripped Connor's hand tightly, refusing to look anywhere but out the window. I felt like a kid on his way to Disneyland, giddy and breathless and excited. I was so enthralled with the scenery rolling by that I almost didn't notice the huge monstrosity standing between us and home.

There was what appeared to be a collapsed bridge in front of us, obviously protecting the port. There was a ramp a little bit off, too steep to walk up but not too drive. This wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the hundreds of Sick milling around it.

"How do they expect us to get through?" Schrader asked.

"Maybe they don't." Zelder whispered.

Michaels crawled into the middle seat with us. "This is what it's all about, right?" He said breathlessly, "Being a hero? Being selfless?"

"What are you talking about?" Poptarts asked, but I could see the look in his eyes. I reached out to grab him and I tried to shout out but I couldn't, because ding! Ding! Ding!

The van is reminding us to shut the door.

"Shit," I uttered, grabbing the pole from beside Mafala, the pole that we used to kill off the Sick. I left. I could hear Connor screaming behind me, but I try to block him out. If I thought about him too much I'd have gone back. I left The senses hit me like a brick wall as soon as I left the car- the smell was awful, and the noise was deafening. I ran up behind Michaels.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked.

"No, Kevin, please go back. I'm giving you a chance. Just go." He urged me, but I pushed him by shoulders. A few of the Sick had smelled us, and begun to peel off from the seething mass and lumber in our direction. I took one look at them and huffed. I veered myself into the monstrous pit.

"Kevin, get out of there!" He yelled at me, but I shook my head. I was beginning to rain.

"No, this is what you wanted, right? A big, heroic death to wipe out all of the bad things you've ever done? Maybe if you sacrifice yourself, all of the bad stuff you've ever done will just magically disappear, right? If you do this, it's guaranteed that we'll make it, right? Maybe a rescue team or jesus Christ himself will come down from the sky and carry us across on the backs of angels." I scream.

"You know I don't think that… Christ, on your left, your left!" He shouts, and i turn to my left just in time to smash the pole into the face of a Sick. But as more and more of them begin to surround us, I realize that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I'm whacking the pole about wildly, and blood is flying everywhere. I reach behind me and grab Michaels' arm, dragging him through the crown until we reach the sloping embankment of the bridge. The rock face is just uneven enough that we could climb it. I handed Michaels the pole, and he whacked viciously at the surrounding Sick as I began to climb up. I could see the van, and it drove towards the ramp then back around to where Michaels and I exited, unsure if they should wait for us. Michaels tapped on my leg, and I grabbed the pole from him, tossing it on top of the bridge. I then grabbed onto a piece of rebar that was stuck to the top, and used my other hand to grab Michaels by the wrist. I tried to hoist us both up, but for whatever reason, I couldn't. We were almost at the top and I just couldn't do it. I looked down to see that a few of the Sick have grabbed his legs. I gave one last long tug and my hand slipped from his with a scream. I watched as he fell back and disappeared into the sea of the Sick. I scrambled up onto the embankment, expecting Michaels to crawl up any second, panting and laughing as he plopped onto his back and caught his breath. But no, there's only empty air where he should have been.

I looked to my left; the van has made it up, effectively toppling the ramp. I could see the ramp to the port just a little to the right, out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to jump back down, to search for Michaels until I found him. But I couldn't. I've made my choice.

I grabbed the pole and dropped it over the edge of the embankment. It bounced across the rock face a few times before landing on one of the Sick's heads. I could imagine Michaels, dead or dying. "Thank you," I said. "Now I have to go. Our friends are waiting."


	8. Chapter 8

eight.

We purchased our tickets for the boat (it was only five dollars each), and sat in the van, waiting for the man at the gates of the boat to wave us on. We all had of our belongings on our laps. Connor began to cry; he loves this van, and the family in it. Theres one empty spot in the back now, and nobody had been brave enough to sit there. There had been ups, downs, surprises and shocks, but I thoroughly believe that we made history in that van. I owed it to our amazing group, lead by my amazing Connor. I really hope he understood that this was all possible because of him. Through sheer willpower to survive, he toted fourteen people across a continent. If that isn't something incredible, I don't know what is.

We were eventually allowed on the boat, and we quickly settled onto one of the benches on the side, sprawling out on the deck. The trip was supposed to take 18 hours. I figured I could use that time to reminisce, but instantly shook the thought from my head- lingering on the past is like re-applying the band-aid. It has to came off eventually.

For most of the trip, I slept in Connor's embrace. He felt somehow softer, like all of his tension was gone and now he was just made of mure happy. That was a great comfort to me.

Church shook me awake when we docked. I felt weightless as we stepped into New York. I was shaking. Zelder and Schrader clung to each other as we got on the shuttle. Everyone was going back, we were staying together as a family in safety and I knew that, without a doubt, this was the way forward.

Mafala put his arm around Arnold and told him that he was happy that Nabu was with him, and that he was like a second son. This made Arnold burst into tears (happy, of course). Zelder and Schrader wanted to move to Seattle so that they could get married ("Too each other?" "Oh yeah, about that. We're kind of… together. Sorry for not telling you." "WHAT THE HECK?!"), and promised to stay in touch. This meant that we would be leaving without them, but they swore on their lives to stay in contact.

While we drove, we did anything we could to keep our minds off of our impending separation from Zelder and Schrader. We sang, talked, ate the food that we had saved. We slept and joked. We did what any family would do; we loved.

We arrived in Salt Lake the next day, around noon. They had built a great wall around most of it, which was incredibly impressive. We got let out, and after a long, painful goodbye from Schrader and Zelder, we went into the city. With some minor exceptions, everything was more or less the same. We went our separate ways, and decided to meet at the Copper Onion in a few hours. The first stop Connor and I made was his parents house. They welcomed him with open arms, and me as well. They had taken his coming-out letter extremely well, and completely approved. He had two little sisters who absolutely adored him, and whom he adored in returned. I was ecstatic to be welcomed into this new family.

We stopped at my house next. My dad didn't take the news as well, but my mom and siblings acted as if nothing had changed, and assured me that dad still loved me and would support me no matter what. That was a comfort to hear. I got to see my sisters and Jack and taste mother's cooking and give dad a handshake. Connor was like a second son to my mom; she was absolutely enamoured with him.

We met Arnold, Nabu, Mafala, Gotswana, Church and Poptarts at the Copper Onion, as promised, and decided to all buy an apartment together. So much of the population was gone, and the apartments and houses were going for cheap. Until we could get one, Arnold said that we could stay at his parent's place. We all readily agreed.

That night, after a hearty dinner from the Cunningham's, Connor and I settled into one of the small guest rooms. We were under the blankets, holding each other tightly, fully relieved. We were too tired to cry, all we could do was move to a rhythm only audible to the two of us.

That was a night of firsts, of not-firsts and of all-around elation. It was the first night in… well, forever, that he didn't have a hell dream. I think that approval from his family took some of the fear away. But I know that, no matter what, there will always be a part of him that doesn't love himself. But that's why he has me; I will gladly fill that part with more than what is necessary. Forever.

He sang to me as we fell asleep, a loud, upbeat tune sang in a hushed whisper. I only caught the last part as I drifted off.

The opposite of war isn't peace, it's creation! La Vie Boheme, Viva la Vie Boheme!


	9. Epilogue

epilogue.

After almost a year, things had settled pretty evenly for our family, and the world was, slowly but surely, rebuilding. It is a relief to wake up every morning and be able to breath, to step outside without having to arm myself. Despite everything, things felt… right. Nabu and Arnold got married, and their little boy, Aari, is already walking. Church and Poptarts are more in love than ever, as are Connor and I. Gotswana has found a lovely woman and plans to marry her soon. Mafala is the same as ever, constantly cracking jokes and making fun for us all. Schrader and Zelder write and call often. But my favourite part of this all, the thing that makes my heart swell and eyes water, is everything that Connor has done. He started a children's theatre company. He teaches them singing techniques and tap dancing. The most rewarding feeling ever is knowing that you helped someone's dreams come true, and there's nothing like seeing the smile on his face when he comes home every day. Everything inside of these walls feels right.

It was exactly a year from the incident, in fact, when Connor and I celebrated our first anniversary. For my present, he gave me a small velvet-wrapped box. I knew it wasn't a ring, because the little government that is left still had gay marriage as illegal, so I opened it with an open mind.

I was not disappointed. I little confused at first though, as I pulled out the mid-sized triangle of grey upholstery.

"What's this?" I chuckled. Connor just smiled with his response.

"It's a piece of fabric that I cut from the van a year ago," He informed me. That was almost too much for me to handle. I dropped the box and the fabric and lunged forward to kiss him. He was a little surprised to see me crying, but at the same time he knew what it meant to me.

We framed it, and put it above our mantle. Over time, things surrounded it, pictures, cards, flowers. But the grey fabric never left.

Every night, ever since we arrived in Salt Lake, I've said a little prayer every night. For Schrader and Zelder. For the Cunninghams. For Armin and Connie and Lilly and Faye. I pray for Connor, that he will one day love himself fully. Not halfway, but fully. And I pray for Michaels and Davis, for wherever they are. I hope they are somewhere beautiful.

I know I am.


End file.
